


Dear Dean Winchester

by Amazhangdestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Despression, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Supernatural - Freeform, dean/cas - Freeform, spn au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 12:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3529028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amazhangdestiel/pseuds/Amazhangdestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dear Dean Winchester,<br/>It’s been awhile since we last talked. One year to be exact. Did you count the days Dean? I sure as hell did. I wanted to talk so bad. I wanted to call. I wanted to do something- I wanted to talk to you so badly. No, I wanted you so badly. </p><p>***</p><p>The untold (until now) short story containing the letters of Castiel Novak's teenage experience as a sixteen year old. Containing love, loss and extreme family issues, this is Cas's story.</p><p>Let's just say it's one twisted love story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Dean Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic, so I'm sorry if it's not my best! But thank you for reading! Enjoy!

Dear Dean Winchester,  
It’s been awhile since we last talked. One year to be exact. Did you count the days Dean? I sure as hell did. I wanted to talk so bad. I wanted to call. I wanted to do something- I wanted to talk to you so badly. No, I wanted you so badly.  
You don’t think I care anymore. I know you don’t. I listened to all your voicemails, read all your emails, text messages and letters. It hurt so bad to delete them all. It hurt so bad to listen to you slowly give up on me. And then you just stopped. Now that really hurt. But I’m not surprised. It has been a year.  
I should’ve tried harder. Should’ve stood up to my family, but instead…I just didn’t. I did what Father and Mother said, listened to my brother’s, just like I was taught to. Just packed up and moved, just like that. New school, new life. If I so much utter your name, I am beaten bloody.  
Dean, you are my best friend. Always have been, always will be. You know me better than I know myself, just as I know you better than you know yourself. But I can’t do this anymore. I know that when I left, I left a huge mess behind. So I finally worked up the courage to write this letter.  
I am living at 123 Cassidy Lane, Steven’s Point Maddison.  
See you soon,  
Castiel.  
*** Dear Dean Winchester,  
So my parents found the letter before I could send it. Let’s just say, it didn’t end pretty. So I write this in the dead of the night, away from the prying eyes of my family. Do you remember the first time Father hit me? I was only twelve. Twelve.  
Do you remember why he hit me? I do.  
Because I was late for church.  
But we both know that I don’t belong there. Just demon spawn, as Luci used to say. A disgrace, a stain on the Novak name, but most of all, a mistake. All direct quotes from Luci himself. You remember Luci right? I remember the first time you met. I remember how I showed up at your door, tears streaming down my face, soaking wet from walking in the rain. How you ushered me inside instantly, whisking me away to your room. It was also the first time I was hit.  
I remember how on the Sunday you walked me home, fuming. I remember how when Luci opened the door, making a comment on how we were both ‘faggots’. I remember how you socked him in the jaw. He had a bruise for a week. I payed for it later, but I didn’t tell you about that. You already hated yourself enough.  
With this letter I enclose a map. I have drawn the directions to my favourite café. It would be wiser to meet there, if that’s what you wish?  
Please call, I promise I’ll answer.  
Castiel  
***  
Dear Dean Winchester,  
I strongly advise that you do not try to sneak out under the watchful eye of Raphael to send a letter. I thought he was asleep. I was wrong. The bruises on my ribs aren’t fading anytime soon. Nor is the cross carved into my wrist.  
Dean, I am an abomination. Or at least, that’s what my family say. But I suppose I should be thankful that they are trying to save me from myself.  
I won’t try to send this letter. I already learnt my lesson. I just hope that you will call. But Zach broke my phone last time you called. I shouldn’t have answered the phone. Perhaps one day you will receive my letters, and you will read how sorry I am. But by the time you get these, I will probably be long gone.  
Today in school, the teacher was showing us how to make the perfect pie crust. That brought back memories. Do you remember Central café? They sold the best apple pie; we used to go down every day until they closed. Every afternoon as soon as we got out of school (or rather detention from talking way too much in class) we would run down there. I remember the warm smell of coffee and freshly baked cookies filling the air as we entered. I remember how Anna Milton used to grin as we walked in, immediately fetching the pie and milkshakes.  
Now, I walk down to the shabby café round the corner of my place. They sell amazing pie as well, but it’s no fun eating it without you. There is a girl there named Meg, and she is rather kind to me. I consider her a very close friend, right next to you. She doesn’t go to my school, but always spends her hard-earned break with me. She is one of the people who can make me laugh, just like you do. I talk about you all the time, she practically knows you. Meg, like you, is also short and brunette. Except her hair is much darker than yours.  
I miss you  
Castiel  
***  
Dear Dean Winchester,  
I saw Mary today.  
I kid you not. I saw Mary Winchester today. Your mother. The woman I once- no, do- consider my own mother. She saw me across the street in the café I was telling you about. I tried to hide, but I didn’t really want to. But she caught up to me. We had coffee, and we talked. It was so good to see her. Is it true that you’re a complete wreck over me? Is it true that you’re in therapy? Is it true you took up drinking? Is it true you started cutting?  
I didn’t know you cared so much.  
I am so sorry. I told Mary to tell you that. I wanted to give her a letter to give to you, but what could I possibly say?  
Excuse the smudged ink. I tried not to cry on the letter.  
You’re all I think about, you know? Every day, all the time. I can’t get you out of my head.  
I am so sorry  
Castiel  
***  
Dear Dean Winchester,  
It has been three months since I saw your mother. She visited a few more times. She said she hadn’t told you yet. She asked if I wanted to see you. I said I couldn’t.  
She stopped coming. I asked her to. So she did. Mary said if I ever needed her, just call. But I can’t. You know that, right?  
Mother has forbidden me to leave the house. She found out that I met with Mary. More bruises, more carvings. I dropped out of school, Father made me. I am now home-schooled, and by that, I basically mean bible camp. Every day I pray for forgiveness. Every day I am tortured. And just like the last, I am locked in the basement at night, forbidden to leave. I am a prisoner in my own home. It’s been two months since I have seen the sunlight.  
Every day it’s the same. A constant repeat.  
Meg occasionally rings. She’s usually working, but Father has forbidden me from answering. I miss her. Almost as much as I miss you.  
What have I done to deserve this? All because I like men?  
Thinking of you  
Castiel  
***  
Dear Dean Winchester,  
Excuse the tear and blood stains.  
Perhaps that was not the best way to start this letter.  
It’s only gotten worse. I haven’t had the chance to write in a while. This is my first piece of paper in weeks. I stole it from the back of Luci’s bible. Notice how thin the waxy pages are? How the ink stains smudge so easily? How it’s soaked and flimsy, and how the blood spreads along the page? It’s almost pretty.  
I didn’t mean to bleed on the letter. It felt good to let it all out, you know?  
Do you remember the first time you caught me? I do. It had been a warm and sunny afternoon, and we were just sitting by the lake. We were throwing rocks into the glimmering water, laughing at some ridiculous joke you had told me. I picked up a small pebble, it was blue-green. I flung it out at the water, the too big sweater rolling up my arm, revealing my scars. You fixed your green eyes on my scars, before pulling me close to you.  
You asked why, and I had said why not.  
I stopped shortly after that, because you asked me to. It was hard, oh so hard. But as you can see, I didn’t keep my promise. Neither of us did.  
Your best friend  
Castiel  
***  
Dear Dean Winchester,  
I’m out. I’m really out.  
Mother deemed this morning that ‘I was no longer sick.’ I am allowed to go back to school (that’s not really a positive, but it’s better than living in this hell hole). I visited Meg today. She still enjoys talking to me; she still wants to talk to me. It’s nice to know I have a friend.  
Speaking of friends, my brothers, Balthazar and Gabriel are moving to Kansas. That’s right, they’re moving back to you. Mother was talking about it this morning, saying how ‘excited she was for her sons to have redeemed themselves.’  
I spoke to them both briefly today. They’re going to get me out. At least, when I leave for college. Just one more year, and then I’m truly free. And then we can be together again, right?  
Waiting for you  
Castiel  
***  
Dear Dean Winchester,  
I was in art today when it happened. The teacher asked as to draw one of our favourite memories, so I drew the time we went to the beach. You remember that right?  
It had been on your family vacation; Mary was the one who invited me. I remember the sweet smell of salt tainting the air as we raced each other through the water, our swimmers soaked in a matter of minutes. I remember how soft the sand was, despite it burning the soles of my feet. Do you remember how we had a massive sand fight, and how I won when I tackled you into the water? How the day ended with a late lunch and ice-cream on the boardwalk, and how you gave your cone to Sam because he dropped his?  
The teacher noticed, and showed it to the entire class. She said it was one of the best drawings she had seen all year. I had almost felt good until the boys at the back of the class started throwing paper planes and called me names like ‘faggot.’ I stayed inside for recess. But they’re not wrong, are they?  
You never judged me for who I liked. And I liked that you still cared about me. I remember how you used to protect me no matter what. I was late coming home again today. I’m sure you can guess why.  
I’m just so tired of it all Dean  
Castiel  
***  
Cas,  
I saw your brothers last week. They moved back into your old house. You weren’t with them. Where are you Cas? Why did you leave me with those words? Why did you-  
Sorry. I got caught up in my own feelings. Excuse the wet paper and the smudged ink.  
Gabriel said you wanted to see me. He said that you were moving back to Lawrence next year, when you leave for college. I can’t wait another year, Cas. Cas, I need you. Please, write back to me. I need to talk to you. It’s just not the same.  
I miss you  
Dean  
***  
Dear Dean Winchester,  
I got your letter. Gabe gave it to me last week at dinner. He slipped it under the table while we were saying Grace. You were right. You are right. I should’ve said something else, or I should’ve replied to all your messages, or I should’ve done something.  
I probably still can, but I can’t.  
Part of me stops myself every time as I go to slip my letter into Gabe’s bag. I just can’t keep doing this to myself, or rather, you. I shouldn’t tell my brothers to say anything to you, or even glance your way. I should disappear from your life, because I am poison.  
So maybe one day I will write back  
But till then  
Castiel  
***  
Cas,  
You didn’t write back.  
It’s been six weeks.  
Cas, come on. Please. I don’t want to sound so, broken, but I just can’t do this anymore. I have written countless letters, sent thousands of texts, but never once have you ever let me know you were okay.  
Please Cas. Please.  
Life is different without you. Every day is a struggle to get out of bed, a struggle to live. I still go to the coffee shop occasionally, but I can’t even sit down without nearly breaking down. Nothing is fun anymore. Anything I used to enjoy is now painful to even think about, because whatever I was enjoying was when I always had you by my side.  
I still sit with Jo and Ash and the rest of the group, but it’s not the same. They didn’t see you the way I did when you left. They didn’t see you sobbing and shaking, as you held onto my hand and…and  
Sorry. That part might be slightly hard to read.  
The group thinks your family just moved because they couldn’t pay the rent. Just like you wanted me to. That you didn’t want them to know, so they wouldn’t be sad. But they are Cas. We all miss you. It’s not the same.  
But no one misses you more than me.  
I found our survival kit the other day, the one we were going to use in case a zombie apocalypse? You remember that- yeah? It’s still intact. The bottled water, the saltine crackers (which have turned a nasty shade of green- well it has been two years), the dark clothes and the sweaty sneakers. The letters to humanity are still there, the ones we wrote and were going to bury when we saved the world?  
I slept in your shirt last night. It smelt of old spices and coffee.  
You always looked good in that shirt  
Dean  
***  
Dear Dean Winchester,  
Do you remember when we were twelve, we were obsessed with Batman? How every Saturday morning, I would climb the tree outside your bedroom window and slip inside at 7 o’clock, singing the theme song? How we’d slide down the rails of the stairs, laughing and shouting until we woke everyone in the house up? How Mary would cook pancakes, smiling as we played the morning cartoons, waiting until it came on? How John would have black coffee, always grumbling about how it was too early? And how Sammy, at the age of nine, used to tease us for being too childish?  
Do you remember how we would proceed to shout the theme song through the streets of Lawrence, how we would run around pretending to be Batman and Robin? How we would stop random strangers on the street and claim that they needed help from the worlds greatest heroes?  
I saw two boys today. I was walking to the café down the street when I saw them. They ran through the streets laughing, clutching onto their precious action figures. Just like us. They couldn’t have been older than eight.  
Do you remember when we were like that Dean? When we didn’t have a care in the world, when we didn’t have to deal with anyone else?  
Now my life is filled with bullies, depression, harm and memories.  
It’s funny how painful memories can be. Or rather, isn’t it funny how nothing changes from day to day, how from day to day we were still best friends? Isn’t it funny how we made so many promises, that we never broke? How from the age of five, we spent years together, but that merely felt like weeks? And now, I look back, and everything has changed.  
Perhaps I shouldn’t be so morbid.  
Castiel  
***  
Hey Castiel,  
I don’t usually write letters. But when I do, it’s usually for something big. You would know this, in fact, you know a lot about me.  
When you first moved here, I didn’t really care. But then we started talking, and you became my best friend. Even though you had your Dean, and I was number two in your eyes, I didn’t care. You believed in me when no one else would. You were trying to fix a broken doll that was so far gone. But no matter how hard you tried, there was no fixing me.  
Don’t blame yourself Cas. Please, please don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault Cas. I tried so hard to hold on, I really did. I constantly told myself just one more day; just make it through one more day. You became the reason I woke up in the mornings, why I kept living my wretched life. But I couldn’t do it anymore Cassie. Please don’t hate me.  
You will always be my best friend Cas. I hope you know that, and I hope you find your way back to Dean.  
You will always be my Dean Winchester.  
With all my love,  
Meg Masters  
*** Dear Dean Winchester,  
Fuck. I can’t stop crying. I can’t stop shaking.  
Excuse my messy handwriting. I need to calm down. In fact, all I need is talk to you. But I can’t…so I’m writing.  
Meg tried to kill herself.  
I knew it was bad. I knew her father was a drunk, an abusive ass. I knew her mother was a junkie, addicted to cocaine. I knew her brother was a runaway, and I knew that she was barely supporting the family. I knew she cut, on her thighs and shoulders. I knew she was severely depressed, like me.  
I tried to help her out, but she wouldn’t take my money, or anything.  
But I thought she was getting better. I would spend my weekends and afternoons with her, and would take the repercussions. Her face would light up whenever I walked through the door. Laugh at my jokes, as I did to her. I thought we were both getting better. She promised me she was getting better, and that she was going to be okay.  
I got the call two hours ago. In the middle of Science. We were studying atoms when the teacher told me to go to the office. They asked me if I knew a Meg Masters. They said she was in hospital, and she had tried to kill herself. And then they gave me her suicide note.  
She threw herself off a cliff. Ridgewood Cliff.  
She used to tell me how she would visit there when she was sad. Meg said that she used to take her brother out there when he dad was really bad, and they would just sit at the edge of the cliff, throwing rocks into the murky water below, waiting. She said they would sit there for hours, talking, or sometimes sitting in silence. In complete serenity, just thinking.  
Just like we used to.  
I could’ve done something. How could I not notice how much pain she was in? I called myself her best friend, and yet I couldn’t even tell when she was lying to me. She said she loved me like I love you. All I can think about is how she thought of me as her Dean. I was so hung up on us, I didn’t even realise how much she needed me.  
How much pain was she in?  
If it was anything like how I feel right now, I would kill myself too.  
And now she’s lying in a hospital bed, unresponsive and barely surviving. I can only hope that she will survive this.  
Maybe she’ll pull through  
Castiel  
***  
Dear Dean Winchester,  
It’s been a week since Meg passed away.  
She didn’t….she couldn’t keep living like that. Or that’s what Meg said. I spoke to her before she died, you know? I walked in, the doctor, Tessa I think her name was, told me that Meg was awake. I sat down next to her, held her hand and smiled. Meg just smiled back.  
‘Why did you do it?’ I had said.  
‘Why not?’ She replied.  
We sat in silence for a few moments. I thought she was going to be okay. Her heart was beating steady, colour was returning to her face. Tessa said she was going to be alright in a couple of weeks. Meg and I slowly started talking like we used to, I visited every day.  
And then one day, I sat down and took her hand, but she pulled away.  
‘You know I love you right?’ Meg said.  
‘I love you too.’ I replied.  
‘No, not in that way.’ Meg mumbled. And then she did it.  
It happened in a moment. She pulled a small knife from underneath her pillow, and plunged it into her chest before I could do anything. I tried to stop it. I really did. I screamed for someone to help, I tried to stop the blood. But it just kept bubbling. And it was already too late when the doctors got there. She was already gone.  
How did she get the knife? Did she smuggle it from somewhere? Was it given to here? If I only I had bothered to check if she had one…  
How could I just let her die?  
I spoke at her funeral. I watched as they lowered her corpse into the ground. I replayed her last words spoken to me, again and again. I sat alone at the funeral, drowning my sorrows in some cheap ass wine. I spoke to her parents. Her father was drunk as usual, and her mother couldn’t stop shaking. Not because of Meg’s death, but because of their own addictions. How could these people be so…be so blind?  
Excuse the tear stains and the smudged ink.  
I talked to her brother as well. He was a complete mess. It took him five minutes to form a sentence. He tried to speak his eulogy, but he ended up breaking down. But I couldn’t feel any sympathy for him. He wasn’t there when Meg needed him. But I wasn’t either.  
It took me a whole week to figure out what she meant, when she died. I was so confused. What did she mean, she didn’t love me in that way?  
But then it hit me.  
She didn’t love me. She was in love with me.  
Meg Masters was in love with me, Castiel Novak.  
How did I not see it? I could’ve stopped her from falling in love with me, a broken soldier. But instead, I kept talking to her. I led her on, made her believe that maybe one day, I would love her the same way. But that spot was already taken Dean. It was already taken by someone else.  
Maybe if I wasn’t so twisted, I could’ve loved her. Not as a sister, but as a partner.  
If fishes were wishes.  
Castiel  
***  
Dear Mr and Mrs Novak,  
We would like to inform you that your son, Castiel Novak has not been at school for the last three weeks with no explanation of absence. We have received no call of vacation or sickness, and his grades have been decreasing rapidly.  
This, of course, is a violation of Saint Xavier’s Private School for Boys. If such behaviour from you son continues, we will have to result in expulsion. Castiel was once one of our top students, and we would be disappointed to see him go. Please respond at when receiving this letter, otherwise we will be forced to take matters into our own hands.  
Sincerely,  
Principal Michael Milton  
Saint Xavier’s Private School for Boys  
***  
Dear Dean Winchester,  
It’s been a couple of weeks since my last unsent letter. Despite not being able to send them, they calm me in some weird way. Maybe it’s because it’s like I’m talking to you again.  
So my parents received a letter from my school, saying that they would have to expel me if I didn’t get my act together. Looks like I’ll be wearing more sweaters. I now spend most nights alone studying, trying to better myself for my parent’s image. Can’t have them moving again because of my ‘bad reputation’.  
Don’t get me wrong, as you know, I love my family.  
But why?  
What did I do to deserve this kind of treatment?  
Actually, I know what I did. It was wrong Dean. But it felt so right. I’m sorry. This isn’t the time.  
After Meg’s funeral, they took me out of town to a nice little diner. We sat down, ordered our meals, and made small talk. I thought, that perhaps, they would ask how I was doing.  
‘Castiel, we understand that you and that Meg girl were close, but you cannot simply act like this anymore.’ Mother said.  
They gave me a fucking lecture. They didn’t care how emotionally wrecked I was on the inside. They only care about their image Dean. Their fucking image. So you know what I said? I just said okay. I apologised for everything, and said that I’d try harder. Then we ate our food, and then left like nothing was wrong. I just smiled and pretended I was okay.  
That night I broke down.  
I locked myself in the basement, before let it out. I was screaming, throwing everything I could get my hands until…  
I was left without anything but the broken remains of my bedroom. And then I took a shattered piece of glass, and sliced. Wrists, legs, ankles...wherever I could. It reminded me of how Meg died. How the blood had bubbled from her chest, how it had streamed down her body. Mine splashed onto the floor, until I finally left consciousness from the blood loss.  
Unfortunately, Gabe found me before I could die.  
Pity isn’t it?  
Castiel  
***  
Cas,  
About a year ago from now, do you remember Christmas?  
Do you remember running down the streets in the snow, trying to get to the mall in time? Do you remember insisting on wearing that dirty trench coat that you love? How we brought our Christmas presents in such a daze before buying some cheap coffee that didn’t even taste that good. And then how we brought that Pecan and Nutmeg pie to get the horrible taste out of our mouth?  
Do you remember how you’d have to go home for Christmas Eve dinner, and then you would sneak back to my place through my window? How you would then eat with my family, even though you had already eaten. How Mum and Dad would just shrug and smile when you came downstairs. Do you remember how we would stay up late wrapping presents? How we would drink hot chocolate until Mum came downstairs and told us to go to bed?  
And how on Christmas mornings we would wake up to pancakes and an extremely excited Sammy, who would shake us both awake. And how we would all trade presents, and as tradition we would both buy each other ugly Christmas sweaters that we would have to wear for the rest of the winter. Do you remember how we would have a pancake eating competition, and Sammy would almost always win?  
It’s Christmas Eve now, and the snow is falling. Remember how we would have a massive snowball fight before we went shopping? Its 10 minutes past 6, the exact time you would be climbing through the icy tree, complaining how cold it was outside. Or how you ripped your trench coat climbing up here. And then I would tell you that you could’ve come through the door, and you would say that you can’t break tradition. Are you thinking of me Cas?  
Right about now we would be racing each other downstairs to eat dinner. But it’s not fun without you. It’s just painful. I still brought you an ugly sweater. I’ll give it to Gabriel to give it to you.  
Do you remember our winter holiday checklist? How we would spend a week at mine, going out to sled or climb Lawrence Point. How we would stay up every night watching Christmas movies, pigging out on eggnog and food? I remember spending every single day with you, whether it be at mine or yours. Where did you go Cas?  
Are you thinking of our Christmas’s together?  
Are you thinking of me?  
I miss you so much  
Dean  
***  
Dear Dean Winchester,  
I got your letter, and the sweater. I wore it under my trench coat today. My family thought it was a gift from Balthazar, because he’s like that. I laughed quietly to myself. It smells like you, and that’s calming.  
I spent my Christmas, much like you, alone. I was surrounded by my family, celebrating the birth of Christ, but ultimately alone. While my parents and brothers talked with relatives, I stood alone in the dark corner, being the good little boy my parents wanted. I walked over when called, only ate a little amount of food, and behaved.  
After a few hours of that lonely torture, I snuck back into my room. The silence was more of a comfort than my real family.  
You asked me if I remembered Christmas with the Winchesters. Here is what I remember.  
I remember climbing into a warm and welcoming family home, unlike my own. I remember the inviting smell of roast meats filling the air while we ate turkey sandwiches because the food Mary was cooking was all for tomorrow. I remember how the bread was dry and stale because Mary was also saving anything decent for Christmas day, but they tasted fantastic to me.  
I remember how we’d drink hot chocolate and throw popcorn at the TV whenever it froze. I remember how Sam would read his books on the armchair next to the couch, sighing at how impatient we were, or rather, how childish we were. And then we would throw popcorn at Sam until he gave up trying to read in peace, and went to bed shortly afterwards.  
I remember how when he went to bed, we would get the presents from John’s car and sneak them inside, before wrapping them up in colourful wrapping paper. I remember how we would soon end up throwing sticky-taped balls of decorative paper at each other. Eventually we would stop (after I tackled you to the ground and wouldn’t let you up- I was always the better fighter) and I would kick you outside to wait in the cold while I wrapped up your presents. I remember how you would do the same, stealing my trench coat in the process, insisting that if you had to wait in the cold, I had to as well.  
I remember how when I’d come back in, you’d be bundled in the trench coat. It looked good on you, despite the ugly sweater from last year underneath it. I remember how we’d end up crashing on the couch, sleeping side by side. I remember how we’d spend the day with your family, just at your house. I’d stay for dinner, before heading back to my place for the annual Novak party. I was lectured afterwards, but it didn’t stop me from doing the same every single year.  
That’s what I remember about spending Christmas with you.  
Castiel  
***  
Dear Dean Winchester,  
It’s 12 o’clock in the morning. And it’s New Year’s Day. Gabe and I got into Father’s secret stash of whiskey. Even though you won’t get this, but the only one who was on my mind was you.  
The way you talk. The way you act. The way you laugh. The way you were with me. You make me happy Dean. And I miss that. I miss you.  
And I think I’m in love with my best friend.  
Castiel  
***  
Cas,  
It’s New Year’s Eve. I may or may not have gotten into Dad’s stash of alcohol….  
Do you miss me? I miss you…  
It’s painful without you Cas. Every day is hard without you. Going to school is too painful. Talking, breathing and just living is painful. Being in my own room is to painful. Because you’re everywhere I go. I see you in my mind. And it’s killing me.  
Why is it so hard? I think I’m in----  
Never mind.  
Dean  
***  
Dear Dean Winchester,  
So today in art, I drew us again. It was the time we climbed Lawrence Point. Do you remember how it took us hours to walk up the point, carrying our packs? How we had to stop about fifty times, because one us would get winded. Do you remember how when we finally reached the top, just as the sun was setting; we took that photo of us standing on the edge? It’s one of my favourite memories.  
The teacher showed it to the class again, explaining how good the detail and what not was. Thankfully, no one said anything. They even looked impressed. Or so I thought. After the bell went, I packed my stuff up; I was exiting the school to start walking home when some of the boys from class caught up to me. But these kids weren’t just from art class; they were my regular bullies in general.  
‘Hey fag, who was the boy you drew in art?’ One of them had said. I tried so hard to ignore them. I tried to keep walking, but he grabbed me on the shoulder and turned me around.  
‘I said, who’s the boy?’ He growled. I said nothing. Big mistake. The next thing I know, I was blinded and gagged. I couldn’t see where they were taking me, but I tried to fight. I really did, but I couldn’t. They grabbed my legs and arms, and I was lifted into the air and tossed into what I assume was a van. I tried to scream as they drove, but they just laughed and held me down.  
Finally, they came to a stop. They took me out of the van, still laughing. The head boy, his name’s Jack, pulled down my blindfold.  
‘You’ll like this one fag.’ He spat. And then he….he then…and then they all…  
Allow me to catch my breath, tears and thoughts.  
Let’s just say it hurt. It hurt a lot.  
It wasn’t like these kids hadn’t harassed me before. They had beaten me up, taken anything of value that was one me, called me names…the usual. But not once, had they ever, gone this far. I passed out eventually, light-headed from all the bleeding and crying. Apparently my family cared enough to look for me, and Gabe found me a couple of hours later. I told everyone what happened. Gabe hugged me, and Balthazar swore he’d get revenge, but you know what everyone else said?  
‘Boys don’t get raped.’ Some said.  
‘Stop looking for attention.’  
‘Why don’t you tell us the truth?’  
They didn’t believe me. My own family didn’t believe me Dean. Do you know what it feels like?  
Sure, Gabe and Balthazar stood up for me, but Mother said if they went to the police with some bullshit lie I made up, then I couldn’t move in with them next year. They threatened to keep me locked up with them. So Gabe and Balthazar had to leave, grief and pity written on their face. Could my family not see how much pain I was in? How do they do it? How can they…how can they…  
I apologise once more for the messy writing. I suppose it doesn’t matter. You’re never going to see this anyways.  
But I wish you were.  
I read your letter. I know how you feel. I wish I could just talk to you…or at least send a letter—  
Scratch that last part. I’m sick of this.  
Forgive me Dean for not sending my letters before. I’ll give this to Gabe tomorrow, he’s coming back to get a box of his old stuff. I’m sorry I didn’t do this before.  
Write soon,  
Castiel  
***  
Cas,  
I didn’t think you’d write back. I thought you’d never write back. But then Gabe turned up with your letter, and then….  
Oh my god Cas. I’m so sorry.  
I should’ve been there to protect you. I should’ve tried to find you. I should’ve just been there to comfort you. I can’t believe that happened to you. How could your family not believe you Cas? How could they just…  
I’m sorry. Excuse the smudged writing.  
I just don’t know what to say. Just…just…  
I’m sorry again. I can’t seem to calm down.  
I read your other letters. Gabriel gave those to me as well. All this time, I thought you didn’t want to talk to me, but you couldn’t. Dammit Cas. I’ll get you out. I don’t know how, but I’m going to get you back to Lawrence. You can live at mine; we can get bunk bed and everything, just like we planned! We can go to college together, and you can get your art degree! I’ll open my own car store and everything! And most of all, we can be together!  
I’m sorry about Meg. I hope she’s happy.  
It’s not your fault.  
Dean  
***  
Dear Dean Winchester,  
It’s not your fault either.  
As pleased as I am that you replied, don’t blame yourself. What happened happened. It’s not your fault. Please don’t do anything rash. Just stay out of it. Stay where you are, please. You’ll just make things worse. I’m sorry. Maybe we can meet at the café Meg used to work at? It’s 110 Serene Road, Park café. Meet me at three o’clock on Saturday. Please.  
Until then,  
Castiel.  
***  
Cas,  
Seeing you again was like a breath of fresh air.  
I’ve missed you so much. I know I said that over and over while I hugged you, but you needed to know. Cas, none of it’s your fault. When you move back to Lawrence, we can go to the police together.  
It was a struggle to write this letter. I thought that it would be awkward, but now that I’ve started, it’s not. It’s like talking to you, except I have to wait a week or so for your reply. But I’m okay with this. Make sure to thank Gabriel for passing these letters on to you.  
But, despite how good it was to see you, we didn’t bring the subject up. And we still haven’t talked about it Cas. I think we need to. I just need you to know that I don’t care about who you like, and I don’t care that you liked me. Because I liked- no like you too. But I think it’s more than that.  
Cas, I think I’m in love with you.  
Dean  
***  
Dear Dean Winchester,  
1\. It was great seeing you too. I know what you mean by seeing you was like a breath of fresh air, because around you it was like I could breathe.  
2\. I was hoping we wouldn’t talk about it because I thought it would be awkward, but I suppose I might as well write about it.  
3\. We should probably do this in person, but I can’t wait any longer.  
So I suppose I should start with the night I left.  
My parents found my journal. I know it wasn’t probably me best idea to keep one, but I did. Apparently, I had written about my secret crush on you a lot in there. My family wasn’t very pleased, too say the least. There was a lot of screaming and shouting, and I was probably struck a couple of times. They decided to sell the house in an instant, and the next thing I know everyone was packing to leave town.  
But I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. Or at least, telling you the truth.  
So I ran upstairs to my room, and climbed out the window. I ran all the way to your house, climbed into your room before bursting into tears. But you remember this part right?  
You enveloped me into your arms instantly, humming ‘Hey Jude’ quietly and telling me it was going to be okay. I remember drawing away, barely managing to tell you that my family was leaving town.  
‘Why?’ You said.  
‘They know, they know the truth.’ I had replied. You knew what I was talking about. You had always known. And yet you liked me regardless. I was still Dean Winchester’s best friend, despite being a homosexual. Do you know how great I felt about that? Did you know how loved I felt?  
I was going to tell you that I had a crush on you. Actually, more than a crush. But I couldn’t get the words out, so I kissed you instead.  
The kiss was amazing by the way.  
I knew it was wrong, and that you probably didn’t feel the same way, but I didn’t care. You tasted so good. But then I had to leave. I’m sorry I left just like that. I’m sorry how confused you must be. But yes, Dean Winchester, I am in love with you.  
Which is why this will be my last letter.  
Not because I think you should stay away from me, no. In fact, I would love to keep talking to you. But I told myself before I left; I had to see you one last time. And I did.  
So yes Dean, this is a suicide letter.  
I want to start by saying I’m sorry I couldn’t hold on. I tried. But I can’t keep doing this anymore. I’m broken Dean, and I’m breaking you. I’m so sorry. I love you so much.  
Don’t blame yourself. Blame me. It’s not your fault that I was broken beyond repair. I want you to know that none of this was your fault, and I’m sorry for the pain I will leave you in. But you’ll be better off without me, just like everyone else. Tell John, Mary and Sam that I love them like family, and do the same to Gabe and Balthazar. If you get the chance, tell Mother and Father to go screw themselves.  
I’ll be happier where I’m going, and I’ll be watching over you. Please Dean don’t cry for me. I’ll be with Meg soon. Tell all our friends that I’m sorry and I love them.  
With this letter, I leave my art book. Here are all my drawings of us, all the good memories. Remember me Dean Winchester.  
With all my love,  
Castile Novak.  
***  
Dear Castiel,  
Hey. It’s Dean…. 


End file.
